Chapter 33: The Sixth Day, Sudden Crash

Day Six, early morning.

Ren Zhong’s arduous journey of a thousand miles had finally taken a mere six steps. He had survived to see the sixth day.

At the small town parking lot, the newly invigorated Zheng Tian Squad was ready to set out.

Thanks to Wen Lei’s lingering injuries—truly a drag on the team—they’d rested an extra day beyond schedule. In this world where tomorrow was never promised, Ren Zhong had managed to enjoy four days of relative peace.

By now, his carrying capacity had risen to 12.2 kilowatts. His neural response index had reached 34.7. Even his overall physical fitness, once his weakest link, had soared rapidly to 14.3—surpassing even his former glory at the park’s ping-pong tables in his previous life.

From the start of his training, it had taken merely five days to regain his six-pack abs. Such progress was nothing short of miraculous—a medical marvel by 21st-century standards.

Was Ren Zhong simply gifted? Undoubtedly. Yet it was also the power of “pay-to-win.”

His personal wealth had shrunk from 82.52 on day three to a mere 4.52, teetering on the brink of bankruptcy.

On the fourth day, Wen Lei’s wounds had grown inflamed. After their midday training, Ren Zhong had taken him once again to “Miraculous Hands.”

Sun Miao, who still refused to accept patients, was deeply annoyed with Ren Zhong. Impatient as ever, he seemed preoccupied with some cancer cell experiment—so concerned about leaks that he ultimately relented, pinching his nose and giving in.

As he changed Wen Lei’s dressings for free, Sun Miao glanced at Ren Zhong, who lay so exhausted in the chair he looked ready to transcend this world, and feigned concern for his patient’s recovery. Offhand, he asked what had happened.

Ren Zhong was too drained to answer, but Wen Lei replied honestly, “Brother Ren wants to become a mech warrior—he’s been training hard. This morning we spent four hours straight in the intermediate training area. It was exhausting, but effective. Too bad it’s expensive—another ten contribution points gone.”

Sun Miao’s face twitched violently.

Damn it! That’s my money!

His instincts as a doctor flared, but just as he was about to say more, he caught himself and shut his mouth.

Ren Zhong, ever quick to seize an opportunity, noticed the slip and immediately pressed the point.

“Brother Sun, do you have a way?”

“I do not! I have nothing! Don’t get any ideas!”

“This time I’ll pay, Brother Sun.”

“It’s still my money!”

“Not entirely. Wen Lei’s injuries came from when we took down a Blade Mantis the day before yesterday. That earned us quite a bit.”

“A level three Blade Mantis?”

“The very same.”

“Impressive.”

“Not bad.”

In the end, Sun Miao administered an injectable called the Human Cellular Activity Enhancer—a costly drug priced at 50 points. It accelerated cellular growth and division, similar to a growth hormone but with broader effects, further boosting the benefits of physical training. Its long-term effect could push the physical fitness index to 20–30, making it an ideal foundation for aspiring warriors.

Of course, this wasn’t something ordinary wastelanders could afford. Typically, only official citizens living in the inner-city villas would treat themselves to such a shot at the start of their warrior journey.

After receiving it, Ren Zhong’s physical enhancements skyrocketed—but his wallet thinned before his eyes.

Sun Miao, long frustrated, finally felt somewhat comforted—at last, he’d recouped a little from this guy. He allowed himself three seconds of self-pity.

On the fourth and fifth days, Ren Zhong visited the intermediate training area twice more, losing another 20 points. But he made up for it by persuading Ju Qingmeng to slip him two extra servings of high-absorption nutritional meals each time.

With such lavish spending, he had, in just three days, met and surpassed the comprehensive standards for a level-one warrior.

Unfortunately, he was now nearly penniless and couldn’t afford any equipment.

It was only on the evening of the fifth day that Wen Lei spent nearly three hours haunting the junkyard outside town, cobbling together a mismatched pair of exoskeletal arms—one blue left, one red right, each with a unique design.

Though not a full suit, and unable to redistribute weight or buffer impacts, these madehift arms put a significant load on the body. Worse, their chips were damaged, resulting in severe delays during actual combat. Still, Ren Zhong now bore a passing resemblance to Joe from “MEGALO BOX.”

With these on, he could punch a wall and leave a dent over two centimeters deep—though Newton’s third law did send him flying backward a bit too far.

Last night, after a few test punches, Ren Zhong felt a sense of awe. To have transformed from a dying man to a fledgling mech warrior in five days after resurrection—his progress outstripped 99.99% of wastelanders in Spark Town.

With his funds running dry, he resolved to go out and earn more tomorrow, determined to scrape together enough to open a stock market account.

A thousand contribution points!

In the past three days, aside from his grueling training, he’d spent much time and energy studying the stock market.

His approach was unconventional—he ignored technical charts, fundamentals, even news. He simply scoured the price movements of individual stocks from the day of his resurrection to the present, hunting for those that had recently skyrocketed—the so-called “demon stocks.”

There were many complex strategies for the stock market; the waters ran deep. But for a newcomer with no capital, the simplest and safest way was to follow these “demon stocks.”

He didn’t care about market manipulators or power plays between capitalists; he only needed to remember which stocks surged the most during which periods. With his meager funds, he could slip in unnoticed and pick up the scraps—still quite safe.

As he drifted to sleep, Ren Zhong thought quietly.

In this world, I refuse to stagnate. I choose to rise up. Starting tomorrow, I’ll let the beasts near Spark Town feel my wrath.

...

“Brother Ren, you may be stronger now, but you should still be careful today. Stay in the car with Hanyu,” Zheng Tian instructed as they prepared to leave, assuming Ren Zhong was simply seeking life experience.

Ren Zhong nodded obediently. “All right.”

Zheng Tian, ever the optimist, added, “Since we finally got a new vehicle, let’s work hard today and see if we can score big.”

Ren Zhong laughed. “Of course! I’ll do my part.”

Though the road ahead was unknown, his understanding of the wild beasts had improved immensely. He had also done something else: after discussing with Zheng Tian and the others, he had compiled focused notes on the most common level-one and level-two beasts near Spark Town, entering all this information into his personal item—the disassembled computer from his cryo-chamber, equipped with an auxiliary onboard AI.

Though an antique, it was quite handy for inputting and quickly retrieving information.

By now, he was practically a walking encyclopedia.

In theory, his wristwatch should have had this function—and performed better—but Ren Zhong had found nothing of the sort, as if the watch’s maker deliberately wanted to increase the dangers faced by scavenger hunters.

The car’s onboard AI was no better, offering only the most basic information. In the end, Ren Zhong’s antique computer was the best command and information center they had.

Some team members had shown curiosity about his old computer, but since Ren Zhong never brought it up, no one pressed the issue.

Perhaps this was what set surveyors of his caliber apart.

Everyone boarded the vehicle. Ren Zhong patted the armored shoulder of Wen Lei, who was lying beneath them as a makeshift seat. “You all right down there?”

Because the Thunderbolt’s passenger compartment was much smaller than the old box truck, Wen Lei—clad in full heavy armor—couldn’t even squeeze into the front passenger seat. They had to remove the rear bench, have Wen Lei lie down like a cocoon, and then Ren Zhong, Ou Youning, and Bai Feng sat on top of him.

As for the front passenger seat, Chen Hanyu had taken that spot.

At first, Zheng Tian had wanted Ren Zhong up front, but he declined.

The Thunderbolt’s engine roared to life.

“Let’s go!” Zheng Tian shouted.

A pulsing rock anthem blasted through the cabin.

It was a bit noisy for Ren Zhong’s taste, but the lively mood stirred his spirit and ambitions. He clenched his fists.

Today, he would give it his all!

At the very least, he had to earn enough for tomorrow’s training fees!

...

Four o’clock in the afternoon.

Game over.

He’d earned tomorrow’s training fees—in a wholly unexpected way.